


for now we are young (let us lay in the sun)

by outruntheavalanche



Series: all our bits and precious bobs [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brother/Sister Incest, Community: tfa_kink, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Loss of Virginity, Not Beta Read, Podfic Available, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 05:05:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5772361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outruntheavalanche/pseuds/outruntheavalanche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Leia had felt like she was floating ever since Han died, free and weightless, everything that tied her to this world having been burnt away: first, her son, and then her husband.  Now, she could have a little something to hold onto.  Luke could give her that.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	for now we are young (let us lay in the sun)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](http://nullrefer.com/?http://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/1841.html?thread=2433585#cmt2433585) prompt at [](http://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**tfa_kink**](http://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/): **After they are reunited post-TFA, Luke and Leia have comfort sex. It's Luke's first time.**
> 
> There are some minor Force-sex shenanigans (nothing dub- or noncon-y), and references to Han's death, as well as a mention of Rey Kenobi!!! 
> 
> Title from "[In the Aeroplane Over the Sea](http://nullrefer.com/?https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hD6_QXwKesU)," by Neutral Milk Hotel.
> 
> I know I'm posting a lot, goddammit. This is the 15th thing I've written since seeing the movie. FREE ME FROM MY PRISON!!!!

Leia senses him standing there, in the entryway to her quarters, for quite some before he makes his presence known with a gentle knock.

She strokes a brush through her long, graying hair; the bristles move over her scalp like the soothing fingers of a lover. With a sigh, Leia sets the brush down in front of her mirror, gathers her robes about her, and goes to greet her long-lost brother.

Luke is so much older than she remembers, his pale face creased with wrinkles and worry lines. His light brown hair has given way to gray, and his beard is streaked with it, like someone had taken a paintbrush to him.

“Leia,” he says. 

Just a single, simple word: her name. And all the weight in the world behind it. His icy blue eyes flicker like a holoimage, like the holoimage that brought them into one another’s orbit to begin with, all those years ago.

“Come in, won’t you?” Leia steps aside and gestures for Luke to enter her chambers, but he stays there in the doorway, eyes darting about inquisitively. 

Finally, they come to rest on her.

“You look…well,” he says, after a brief, considering pause. “Rey told me about Han.”

Leia doesn’t bother to try and conceal her flinch at hearing Han’s name. She’s avoided that subject—everything to do with that subject—for going on three months now. Leave it to Luke to barge back into her life and bring that along with him.

Rather than responding, Leia shuts the door behind him and guides him over to her settee. “Would you like some tea?” she asks, as she sets him down on one of the plush cushions. Leia keeps a teapot and cups in her rooms, just in case she ever finds herself entertaining guests. She’s never had cause to use the teapot before.

“That would be fine.” Luke pulls down the hood of his robe and sweeps his hand—the skeletal, metal one—through his unruly, salt-and-pepper hair.

Leia turns her back to him and sets about pouring hot water into cups. When she’d last lain eyes on her brother, over a decade before, his false hand had been encased in lifelike flesh. The hand had had nerve endings, felt pain. She wonders if he can feel anything anymore.

Once she’s done preparing the tea, Leia brings over the two cups and hands one to Luke. She settles next to him on the settee and sips in silence. She’ll wait him out as long as she needs to.

After a few minutes of pleasant silence, broken up only intermittently by slurps and sips, Luke speaks.

“I meant to come sooner,” he explains, setting his cup down on a little hovertable by his elbow. “Rey insisted on it. ‘Uncle Luke’—she calls me Uncle Luke, it’s rather sweet—‘Uncle Luke, the General needs you.’ One time, she claimed to have even peered into your dreams and saw that you’d been dreaming of me. Us. When we were younger.”

Leia meets Luke’s gaze, unsure of how to respond. “She’s… Obi Wan’s granddaughter?” Leia asks, feeling around this tender territory with careful steps. 

“Yes. She’s quite strong in the Force,” Luke muses, glancing down at his cup. He picks it up and drains the last of his tea in one gulp. “I told her she ought not to use her powers to spy on unsuspecting folks.”

“What else did she see?” Leia asks.

Luke looks at her, eyebrows lifting. “Of you?”

Leia just nods. Luke runs a fingertip along the rim of his cup.

“She picked up feelings, sensations. Radio frequencies.” 

“Such as…”

Luke scoots closer to Leia and grasps her hand in his. The sleeve of his robe slips down, covering their linked fingers.

“I missed you,” he tells her, mostly addressing their hands. “I’m sorry for running away. Leaving you to deal with everything on your own.”

“I wasn’t completely alone. Not all the time. I had Han, for a while,” Leia says, sighing wistfully. 

“I’m sorry.” Luke draws her hand to his lips and presses a kiss to her knuckles.

Leia closes her eyes and wills no tears to fall. She hasn’t let herself weep for Han. Weeping is a waste of her time, really. She’d rather plan, strategize, _fight_ than wallow in a pool of her own tears. Anyway, Leia thinks, as Luke’s bristly beard scrapes across her skin, if she started crying now, she’d never stop. Her tears would drown the universe.

She strokes her fingers in his hair and leans her forehead against his.

“Don’t be sorry,” Leia says, sucking in a shallow breath. She tells her tears not to fall. “Just be here.”

Luke surges forward and kisses her, a hot desperate slide of his lips against hers. She can taste his sorrow and regret, feels it crashing into her in waves like the ocean that had been his home for the last decade and a half. Leia kisses back just as desperately, pushes a little bit of her sorrow and grief—and rage—back at her brother.

Leia had kissed him once before, when they were both young and foolish, high on life and dreams and the promise of a better future. Before either of them really knew the truth of their origins. She’d told him later that she’d always sensed it, the truth behind their instantaneous, unshakable bond. What she hadn’t told him was that she regretted their kiss. But Leia had never been able to bring herself to lie to him.

Luke’s prosthetic hand is cool on her skin as it slips under her gown. Leia again finds herself wondering if he can feel anything with that hand. 

They should stop. She thinks the thoughts at him even as she opens her heavy, ornate robe and shrugs out of it for him. Luke thinks the thoughts right back at her as he removes his own robe and settles himself between her trembling thighs. Luke lifts her dressing gown up, up, up, exposing her calves, thighs, rucks it up at her waist.

Then, stops.

Leia looks up at him, wonders what he thinks behind those steely blue eyes. 

“You’re very beautiful,” he says, and if he wasn’t Luke and if she wasn’t Leia, she might have laughed at him. He shoots her a look, heavy brow knitting over those eyes of his. “Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not. I won’t,” she promises.

“I’ve also…never done this before,” he says, so softly it’s almost a whisper. 

“Never?” Leia feels oddly exposed now and contemplates, however briefly, covering her nakedness with her robe.

“I shunned physical and emotional…contact during my training, and then it just got easier to go without it,” he says, tracing the fingertips of his metal hand over her knee. “And when I’d decided I’d finally had enough of the hermetic life… I found that life had passed me by.”

“That isn’t true,” Leia argues.

“Will you show me?” he asks.

“Anything. Anything for you.” Leia sits up a bit and takes his cold robotic hand in hers, kissing the fingertips before letting it go. 

Leia crawls onto her knees and moves closer, reaching up to undo the buttons on Luke’s blouse. She divests him of the shirt and runs her hand over his chest. His skin is cool under her palms. 

“What should I do? I feel useless,” Luke says, with a dry little laugh.

“You may touch me, if you’d like,” Leia says.

Luke strokes a hand through Leia’s unbound hair, which wasn’t what she’d been expecting. He runs his fingers over her scalp in the slow, lazy, almost reverent way Han used to when she put her head in his lap. Strangely, thinking of Han now doesn’t hurt. 

His hand presses and explores as it moves over her body, cupping her breast, stroking her bare shoulder, running down her arm. Her heart throbs for him, at having missed out on so much. Not so much the physical act of sex as…everything else. Leia hopes this is a decent enough consolation prize.

When she’s done undressing him, and Luke is kneeling in front of her stark naked and trembling, Leia catches him by the back of the neck and pulls him into another kiss. His bare chest presses against her breasts, and she feels him jutting hard against her hip. She lets a hand drift between them to touch and explore, to learn every inch of him. 

Leia reclines on the settee and pulls Luke down on top of her. With a steady hand, she guides him where he’s meant to go, lining their bodies up. There is a breathless moment where Luke pauses, hovering over her, staring down at her with wide, frightened eyes.

“It’s fine,” she tells him, rubbing his arm, stopping where it ends and the metal prosthetic begins. “It’s fine.”

Luke closes his eyes, nods, and shifts himself over her. Perhaps they should have started out small, worked their way up to this, but Leia had been greedy. She wanted the weight of him on top of her, pressing her into the couch, anchoring her to this place. Leia had felt like she was floating ever since Han died, free and weightless, everything that tied her to this world having been burnt away: first, her son, and then her husband. Now, she could have a little something to hold onto. Luke could give her that.

He pushes into her and it’s graceless and clumsy and fumbling. It’s been a long time since Leia’s had a man this way—since Han left, her traitorous brain supplies—and it shows. They lie there together, panting, uncomfortable. Luke looks mortified and Leia wishes she could soothe away the line that forms between his brows.

“I’m sorry,” Luke whispers, his pale cheeks coloring.

“It’s okay,” she says, trying to help him, moving under him, adjusting their position just a bit. 

Luke fully enters her and then they’re moving together, awkward stuttering movements of their hips. Leia puts her arms around his waist and presses her cheek against his shoulder. Luke’s fingers dig too tightly into her hips, as if he’s afraid she might be taken away before they’re done.

It's not the best sex Leia’s ever had by any stretch of the imagination; in fact, it’s downright _bad_. Luke is clumsy and ungainly, and doesn’t seem to know exactly where to put his hands, but he’s surprisingly passionate. He presses little kisses all over her bare shoulders and the sides of her face. He rubs his thumbs over the places where he’d gripped her too tightly. 

Leia chases after an elusive flame that keeps growing even more and more distant. She reaches out for it with her mind, tries to grab hold of it, but it gutters out. Luke’s weight is solid and heavy over her, though, and he stokes a new flame into a roaring fire. Leia focuses on that, on the flame burning in her breast. 

Luke stills over her and she can feel his presence in her mind, pushing and nudging against her own. It flows against hers like a gentle tide, a lapping wave against the shore. Leia reaches out to his presence with her own, flows back. Their energies weave together like ribbons, going from loose and flowing to a firm rope, a rope a princess could grab hold of and use to climb out of her tower prison.

But she wasn’t a princess anymore. She had no need for fairytales or escapes.

A slow, tingling warmth spreads through her and she grabs onto it. Pulls it like she might pull a rope or a ribbon. Luke gasps against the side of her face, bringing her back into her body, hips jerking against hers as he comes. It’s messy and wet, but the robes underneath catch the spill.

When Luke pulls back, pulls away from her, she feels aching, unfulfilled. He looks down at her, eyes trailing down her body, and she can sense his regret. Is he ashamed now? 

Luke’s fingers slip down her stomach, and she tries not to wince. It’s not flat anymore, as it was when she was a girl of nineteen, and there’s a long scar there as yet another reminder of the son who is now lost to her. Leia hates the scar, but Luke runs his thumb along it, his touch light and tender. His fingers slip between her legs, sliding in the slick, probing her almost curiously. Two fingers push gently into her and his thumb finds her clitoris, and he begins to rub.

It’s not any more graceful than before, his movements jerky and awkward, but that doesn’t matter. Leia feels pleasure pooling low in her gut as Luke’s fingers move in and over her. She reaches out for—and finds—his alien, robotic hand and laces the fingers of it with her own. 

Luke narrows his concentration, his focus down to a single point on a starmap, and sends waves of energy to her. She’s not even sure he’s doing it on purpose anymore. His energy finds her anyway, mingles with her own pleasure, and it sets off a series of tiny explosions somewhere deep inside. Leia’s not even aware of his hands on her body anymore, not that it matters. His presence is wrapped tightly around her, thrumming around her, warming her all over until she feels sweat dripping down the back of her neck and catching in the creases of her elbows and knees.

“ _You’re so close. Let go. Let me do this for you_.” Luke voice fills her mind in a soft whisper. 

So, Leia does let go.

Pleasure sings through her body, twisting and swirling around her until she feels completely wrapped up in it. Luke’s hand finds hers and squeezes, anchoring her to him. A liquid heat coils low in her belly, spiraling, until it coalesces between her thighs. 

Leia’s vision blanks out for a moment, everything going blessedly white. All she’s aware of are her ragged breaths, the pounding of her heartbeat, and Luke’s hand clasped around hers. 

When her vision finally clears and she starts to come back to herself, she realizes Luke is mopping at her with his robe.

Leia sits up slowly and pulls the robe out of his hand. “Stop. I’ll send this to be washed. In the meantime, I’m going to shower. Would you like to join me?” she asks.

“That sounds… That sounds nice, actually,” Luke says.

They fumble their way into the shower together. It’s not made for two people, so the fit is tight, uncomfortable, and Leia catches Luke’s elbow in her side more than once. 

She directs a spray of water into Luke’s face, leaving him spluttering, and they laugh, the high, happy sounds ricocheting off the tile. Luke uses the Force to lift a bar of soap and sends it barrel-rolling for her mouth. Leia laughs some more and ducks, and the soap bounces harmlessly off the wall.

She squeezes shampoo into her hands and works it into a lather, and then works it into Luke’s hair. Luke does the same, rubbing soapy fingers into her scalp until her knees grow weak. Leia drags wet, slippery, soapy fingers through his beard and he scrubs all the hard-to-reach places of her body with the bar of soap.

When they’re done, they wrap fresh, warm towels around each other and huddle together in Leia’s massive bed. 

Leia falls asleep this way, her head resting on Luke’s bare shoulder, her mind—for once—not plagued by nightmares of Han or her son. Instead, she dreams of soft, gentle waves lapping at a sandy beach.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[PODFIC] for now we are young (let us lay in the sun)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7036744) by [KeeperofSeeds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeeperofSeeds/pseuds/KeeperofSeeds)




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